Gazing into a canvas of darkness, this tape seems to have originated from a highway speed camera.
Utterly deserted, the thoroughfare stretches from one end of the choppy frame to the other, the audio devoid of any sound save for the death-rattle rasp of the wind.
Presently, footfalls and exhausted breathing join the soundscape as two men stagger upon the scene, one hunched and bearing the blood-soaked profile of the other.
Clad in the remains of riot gear, the starlight glistening over the red wells of bullet holes flowering across his back, the limply carried officer is clearly dead.
His bearer, a slighter man with bloodshot, vacant eyes, stumbles as he walks, his quivering lips moving as he maintains a hoarsely-whispered, one-sided dialogue.
"Don't worry, Kev," he wheezes.
"Carlhaven's just a couple miles up ahead.
I'm sure we'll find someone there who can help you, and after you're better, we can go to my place on the lake and wait for all this to die down.
I'll get us there, I promise.
You just need to talk to me.
Please.
Tell me something."
Catching his foot in a pothole, the man staggers to the concrete, the corpse sprawling atop him as he lies face down.
"I'm going to get us there.
I promise.
I promise.
I just want you to wake up.
Please, Kev.
I've got to get us there."
As the man wretchedly whimpers, various figures begin to shamble up from the same direction he came from.
Futilely trying to rise, the man only succeeds in rolling himself into a sitting position as his crying grows harder.
"Please Kev… please.
I don't want to die alone," he bawls.
"Please, wake up and don't let me die alone."
As the first zombie stumbles to within a few meters of the man, his sobs grow quiet as he makes eye contact with the inhuman monster ushering in his destruction.
Closing his eyes, he pulls the policeman's corpse into a tight hug and lowers his head, planting a tender kiss on the dead man's lips.
The embrace never breaks, even as the zombies descend upon him.
Utterly deserted, the thoroughfare stretches from one end of the choppy frame to the other, the audio devoid of any sound save for the death-rattle rasp of the wind.
Presently, footfalls and exhausted breathing join the soundscape as two men stagger upon the scene, one hunched and bearing the blood-soaked profile of the other.
Clad in the remains of riot gear, the starlight glistening over the red wells of bullet holes flowering across his back, the limply carried officer is clearly dead.
His bearer, a slighter man with bloodshot, vacant eyes, stumbles as he walks, his quivering lips moving as he maintains a hoarsely-whispered, one-sided dialogue.
"Don't worry, Kev," he wheezes.
"Carlhaven's just a couple miles up ahead.
I'm sure we'll find someone there who can help you, and after you're better, we can go to my place on the lake and wait for all this to die down.
I'll get us there, I promise.
You just need to talk to me.
Please.
Tell me something."
Catching his foot in a pothole, the man staggers to the concrete, the corpse sprawling atop him as he lies face down.
"I'm going to get us there.
I promise.
I promise.
I just want you to wake up.
Please, Kev.
I've got to get us there."
As the man wretchedly whimpers, various figures begin to shamble up from the same direction he came from.
Futilely trying to rise, the man only succeeds in rolling himself into a sitting position as his crying grows harder.
"Please Kev… please.
I don't want to die alone," he bawls.
"Please, wake up and don't let me die alone."
As the first zombie stumbles to within a few meters of the man, his sobs grow quiet as he makes eye contact with the inhuman monster ushering in his destruction.
Closing his eyes, he pulls the policeman's corpse into a tight hug and lowers his head, planting a tender kiss on the dead man's lips.
The embrace never breaks, even as the zombies descend upon him.